When I was seven years old, a particularly fierce thunderstorm swept through town one night.  One of those southern summer storms that shakes the walls of the house and the nerves of its occupants – especially the little ones.  Sensing my palpable fear, my dad quietly took my hand and asked me to come watch the storm with him.  I shelved my trepidation and accompanied him to the sun porch on the side of our house that had floor to ceiling windows.

As the storm put on a magnificent display, I sat on my father’s lap and listened to him quietly talk about calculating the distance of the storm by counting the seconds between thunder and lightning, why light travels faster than sound, and the origins of electrical pulses in the sky.  Every time I jumped at the sound of a thunder clap, he gently put his hand on my forearm and immediately my heart rate slowed down.  When the storm finally ebbed, I realized that I was completely relaxed. Read more...